Spark of Hope
by justin.jossart
Summary: In a desolate future, a young boy dies in the place of his teacher. Alone, beaten, and crippled, the battered warrior fights on, despite losing everyone and everything he's ever loved. Miraculously, hope's light shines again in the form of a time machine that allows our hero to go back and change things... but will they be for the better? Future Gohan x Present Bulma
1. PROLOGUE

**The Spark of Hope**

 **by Justin Jossart**

 **A/N: I know this prologue is super short. That's why I uploaded it and the first chapter at the same time. Please forgive me for killing off Future Trunks, but it was necessary for the plot to continue. This story is going to explore the question: "What if Trunks had died, and Future Gohan was the warrior who went back in time to warn the Z Fighters about the threat of the androids?"**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters.**

 **PROLOGUE**

The world slowly faded into focus as the warrior regained consciousness. The battle had been worse than the ones before it; his enemies had hardly held back that time. Maybe they were finally tiring of their little game. Pain lanced through the warrior's body, though the majority was focused on his left shoulder. Looking down, the warrior cried out in shock. His left arm... his entire left arm was gone at the shoulder.

Pushing through the pain, and trying not to panic, the warrior fumbled for a small leather pouch tied to his belted gi. He had saved something for just such an occasion, in case his foes had injured him too badly to fight their tyranny. Awkwardly, he opened the pouch's drawstring with his teeth and his one remaining hand, letting its contents, a small, green bean, spill out onto the scorched earth below. Belying its mundane appearance, this bean, known as a Senzu Bean, could magically heal all wounds, restore his stamina, even his lost arm. Once, Senzu Beans were very rare, though the defenders of Earth usually had just enough to get through their worst battles. Now they were gone forever, except this last one. The warrior was about to pop the bean into his mouth, but stopped when he saw the lavender haired body about ten feet to his right.

"Trunks!" The warrior cried, dragging his injured body towards his student. Desperation gave him the strength to overcome the blinding pain that arced through his body with every movement. His student's eyes were wide but unseeing, his form unmoving. As he edged ever closer, the warrior could see that the boy's chest was still; he wasn't breathing. "TRUNKS!" the warrior called again, propelling himself the final few feet towards his student. "Wake up, Trunks, don't do this to me," the warrior begged. "I can't do this without you." He shoved the Senzu Bean into the boy's mouth, forcing him to chew, though the warrior already knew it was pointless. Senzu Beans don't bring back the dead. Only the Dragon Balls could do that, and they had been destroyed fifteen years prior.

Sobs racked the warrior's body. Why had Trunks been here at all? He had made the boy promise to stay behind. He shouldn't have been here; he wasn't ready. What was he going to tell the boy's mother?

Planet Earth suffered a devastating loss that day. Its old defender was crippled, its new one was destroyed, and the light of hope dimmed to barely a spark. For five years, that spark would continue to dwindle, kept alive in the heart of a single, one-armed warrior.


	2. CHAPTER ONE

**Spark of Hope**

 **by Justin Jossart**

 **CHAPTER ONE**

" _Run, Gohan!" Mister Piccolo's gritty voice called, laced with fear._

 _We had just stepped out of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. While it had been a full year for us inside, only a day had passed by for the outside world. My mentor had hoped that I could attain the power of a Super Saiyan, the power of my father, while we were inside, but to no avail. I had failed him._

 _As we opened the door, we could tell something was wrong. Neither Kami nor Mister Popo was there to greet us, and the Lookout showed signs of a pitched battle. Its once pristine columns were now pitted with smoking craters. Some still stood, others lay on their sides, while the majority were demolished altogether. High above the lookout, I could see a single glowing figure battling two others... and he was losing._

 _Focusing, I could see the battle clearly. Vegeta, Earth's most powerful and most reluctant protector fought two teens in the skies above. Even from here, I could tell that they were toying with him. Individually, the Super Saiyan could have defeated either one of them. His power was equal to theirs, but hard-earned skill and a lifetime of combat experience outweighed his opponents' unending stamina. However, every time he gained the upper hand against one android, the other would attack his blind-side, leaving him unable to pursue his advantage. It was a war of attrition; a war Vegeta would lose._

 _Mister Piccolo took off towards the pitched battle. I knew his plan; it was the one we had discussed multiple times in the Chamber, though it was supposed to be me up there. He would try to keep one of the androids occupied while Vegeta took care of the other. It was a good strategy, if desperate, that might have worked if I had been able to ascend. But I hadn't. Mister Piccolo, while powerful, didn't possess the strength to hold off one of the androids for long. Not nearly long enough for Vegeta to destroy the other one..._

 _Unable to stand aside any longer, I joined Mister Piccolo in his assault on the blonde woman, the one called Android Eighteen. Even together, even after all of our training, we didn't stand a chance. She knocked us around like it was nothing, laughing. Occasionally, I'd catch glimpses of Vegeta's fight with the other android, Seventeen. The golden warrior seemed to be winning._

" _DIE!" I heard Vegeta yell. Our fight with Eighteen stalled as we watched Vegeta charge an attack. His arms stretched out in front of him, palms touching, facing towards an injured and immobile Android Seventeen. The energy from the attack was overwhelming, and it wasn't even fully charged yet. Static electricity arced from his hands and the clouds above swirled around him. "FINAL... FLA-"_

 _The awesome attack was cut short. The warrior's eyes widened as he looked down to see a feminine hand piercing through his chest. We had almost won, but Mister Piccolo and I had gotten so caught up in watching Vegeta's attack that we had lost track of Eighteen. Smirking, she let Vegeta's lifeless body slide off of her blood-stained arm. He tumbled to the Earth far below without a sound._

 _Eighteen's ice blue eyes turned to Mister Piccolo and myself._

I awoke with a start, my much repaired alarm blaring at me. I silently thanked whatever gods there were that I had awoken before the next part. That I hadn't had to watch Eighteen torture Piccolo again. I rolled over, using my one good arm to shut the blasted the up, before rolling out of bed. A sudden panic gripped my chest, but I forced it down. If everything went according to plan, this would be the last time I slept in this bed.

Late last night, I had finally finished the Time Machine. My closest friend had started the project, but she... wasn't around anymore. For a moment, memories of her threatened to overwhelm my mind, but I managed to shut them out. She would have completed the machine long ago, and done it better than I ever could, but even with one hand I could follow the blue prints she had left behind. It would have taken me longer still, but I had left out the return matrix. There was nothing left here to return to.

Humanity, such as it was, was wiped out. I think a few pockets of survivors still scurried in the ruins of their once massive cities, but it had been so long since I had seen or heard from another living person that I wasn't sure anymore. Once, the people had called me their Protector, but I had failed them, like I had failed my mom and my friends. Like I had failed Trunks. Like I had failed Bulma.

My name is Son Gohan. I am one of the last breathing people on the planet. Eighteen years ago, a pair of androids created by the insane Doctor Gero appeared over South City. They had immediately started their full-scale destruction of the planet's populace, killing thousands in the first hour alone. The people of Earth cheered as the Z-Fighters, Earth's last line of defense, had taken the battle to the mechanical monsters. Krillin, Piccolo, Tien, Vegeta, Yamcha, and myself had fought them with everything we had. One by one we fell to their overwhelming power, until only Piccolo, Vegeta, and I had survived. We fled the battlefield to regroup, Piccolo carrying the unconscious Vegeta.

My mentor had hatched a plan. Only the power of a Super Saiyan could stand up to these monsters. So he had taken me into the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, a pocket dimension that distorted time, to train me into a Super Saiyan. The training was intense, at times unbearable, and my power grew by the day. I had been so close, but I had failed to break through the barrier. Mister Piccolo had tried to hide the disappointment in his eyes when he told me that it was okay, we'd leave and come back in for another year of training.

We hadn't had the chance.

The androids had attacked the lookout shortly before we had exited the Chamber, and Vegeta was fighting them both by himself. Mister Piccolo and I fought beside him, trying to hold off one of the androids, but we weren't strong enough. Vegeta died that day. So did Piccolo.

Piccolo's death triggered what training couldn't. In rage and grief, my ki exploded into a golden aura. I had finally become a Super Saiyan, though it was too late. Unlike Vegeta, I wasn't able to defeat Android Eighteen on my own. I fought as hard as I could, but I lost. By some miracle she spared my life, smirking as she told me about the fun we would have. Licking my wounds, I retreated.

So I became their favorite game. They'd attack a city, kill innocent people, all to get me to show up. I'd fight, I'd lose, and they'd leave. As I grew older and stronger, our battles would become more pitched and more frequent. Once a month became two or three times a week. The constant fighting left me scarred and battered, unable to fully heal between fights, thus denying me the inherent zenkai boosts afforded to those of Saiyan blood. I had long used up all but one of the last batch of Senzu Beans, so Bulma started working on some kind of healing pod, but scrapped the idea after a year of failures.

However, we still had hope: Trunks. Trunks, the son of Bulma and Vegeta (I still don't know how _that_ happened), had as much Saiyan blood as I. If _he_ could become a Super Saiyan as well, then Piccolo's old plan of dividing and conquering the androids could work. I took up residence in the ruins of Capsule Corp with Bulma and Trunks. When I wasn't off fighting the androids, I'd train the boy, teaching him everything Piccolo had taught me. Eventually, we became a kind of weird little family. Bulma was like an aunt and best friend rolled into one, patching me up and working on her secret project. Trunks was like a little brother, mischievous and playful. Though times were hard, we still had each other, and it was enough. We'd laugh and smile, playing board games by candlelight.

I should have known that it was too good to last.

Now it was just me. I had finished Bulma's secret project, a time machine that would allow us to go back and fix things, and today I'd use it. Originally, the plan was for me to go back, warn them of the upcoming threat, then train with Goku and Piccolo until I had the strength needed to finally destroy the androids for good. Then I'd come back, destroy the androids, and help Earth rebuild. But after I lost Trunks and Bulma, the Time Machine took too long to construct. Humanity is gone. I won't be coming back.

As I bathed and put on my best gi, an orange and blue one reminiscent of Goku's, excitement and nervousness build up in my chest. I had no idea what I'd say to everyone. It had been so long, but I'd finally get to see my friends and family again. I'd get to see Piccolo. I'd get to see _her._ At the same time, I knew that they wouldn't be like I remembered, especially Bulma and Trunks. Trunks would be an infant, and Bulma would only be a few years older than my twenty-eight. Hell, I'd be about the same age as Goku. Staring in the mirror, I looked a lot like him, except my hair was a lot shorter and for the scar over my right eye. I'd been lucky not to lose it.

I had originally intended to go back to the day Frieza and his father arrived on Earth, but recently I'd scrapped that idea. While it would be convenient for all the Z-Fighters to be in one place, I couldn't risk messing with Trunks' conception. Instead, I'd show up a year later. Bulma would already be pregnant with her son, but we'd still have time to train for the androids and prevent Goku from dying from a heart virus. It wasn't ideal, and I had no idea how I'd introduce myself to everyone, but I wouldn't risk Trunks' life to make my job easier.

I spent a good part of the morning double checking the time machine, making sure I'd gotten everything right, then checking again. Everything was ready, but I had one last thing to take care of. Exiting the broken down structure, I found myself walking towards a small plot of grass. While everywhere else was broken down and overgrown, I had made sure to keep this area well-cared for. Two grave markers sat in the center, side by side, their cold stone faces staring accusingly at me. I turned to the larger one first.

 _ **Trunks Briefs**_

 _ **Beloved Son and Friend**_

"I'm sorry, Trunks. I failed you... I failed everyone. But I'm going to fix this. I'll make sure that you never have to fight like I did." The words escaped my lips, my voice dry and cracked from disuse. Finally, I turned towards the smaller gravestone.

 _ **Bulma Briefs**_

 _ **Mother, Friend, Hero**_

I didn't know what to say. My last memories of Bulma were... unpleasant. After Trunks had died, she'd never been the same. "Bulma... I... I'm sorry. You trusted me with him, and I betrayed that trust. All of this is my fault. I finished the time machine. _Your_ time machine. I'm going to go back, and none of this will ever happen. You'll never have to suffer again. I promise." I don't know how long I stood there, staring at her grave. I knew I was stalling, but I couldn't tear myself away.

It was late afternoon by the time I went back down to the time machine. I checked my belt, making sure I had Goku's medicine and my capsule case. Everything was set. It was now or never. I climbed carefully into the machine, flicking a red switch to close the dome around me, hissing as it sealed. A few more buttons, and I had it set to the correct date, time and location. I'd be appearing in a wasteland not far from Kami's Lookout. A final breath to steady my nerves, and I activated the machine.

* * *

It's difficult to describe what it's like to travel through time. It was psychedelic, to say the least. Bright, multicolored lights assailed my senses, forcing me to close my eyes or lose my breakfast. I thought that there'd be some sort of sound, but the only thing I heard was the slight hum of the time machine. After what seemed like an eternity, or was it just a few moments, the sensations stopped. Hesitantly, I cracked open one eye. Natural sunlight beamed through the machine's glass dome, it's warmth heating my face. I almost couldn't believe it! Had it worked? Was I really in the past? I had to make sure. I hopped out of the machine, capsulizing it, before streaking towards West City. I had to see them. I had to make sure they were alive. Everything else could wait.

As I passed over West City, I knew that it had worked. In my time, it was nothing but a pile of rubble, abandoned structures, and overgrown with plant life. But here it was, whole and untouched. The Capsule Corp building stood tall and proud, it's familiar dome gleaming in the afternoon sun. Then I saw her. She was reading in the backyard, lounging beneath an umbrella'd lawn table. Her familiar blue tresses were cut to shoulder length, and I could just make out her cerulean eyes. She didn't see me, engrossed in her book, but I was able to breath easy. She was alive, and though she was barely showing, obviously pregnant. Part of me wanted to swoop down and say hello, but I didn't want to scare her. Besides, I had no idea what I'd say. Everything I could think of ranged from awkward to just plain dumb. Promising myself that I would come back, I turned away, instead heading towards a deserted grassland ten miles outside of West City.

My plan to gather the Z-Warriors was simple. I'd simply power up, and my energy would draw them to me. It'd be a lot less awkward than knocking on my mom's door. I could sense them, vaguely spread across the planet, their high power levels standing out above the rest. I could feel Goku, my father, like a clear beacon. He was most probably training, like always.

Spreading my feet into the familiar 'horse' stance, my arm gripped tightly to my side, I slowly began building my strength. The earth around me shook slightly, a blue aura enveloping my body as I powered up. The energy I created buffeted the grass, shaking the nearby trees. As I reached my max, I flicked the internal switch that allowed me to go Super Saiyan. My aura sparked from blue to gold, growing in size and intensity. My hair stood on end, changing colors. With a shout, I hit my limit.

I didn't have to wait long. Within moments, a figure phased into existence about ten feet in front of me. He was clad similarly to myself, an orange gi with a blue undershirt, boots and belt. His dark hair, unmanageable as always, stood a foot over his normal height. His face was solemn, his eyes dark, as he stared at me. I was suddenly self conscious. The left sleeve of my undershirt flapped uselessly in the wind, and I could feel his gaze focusing on the missing appendage before returning to my face. I don't know how long we stood there, staring at each other in silence.

"Who are you?" He finally asked, brow furrowed.

I debated giving him a false name, but in the end decided against it. "My name is Son Gohan, and I'm from the future." I watched his face as he processed the information, reading his emotions like a book. Confusion, doubt, suspicion, mixed with uncertainty. My father never had the best poker face. "I've traveled back in time to warn you, all of you, about the greatest threat the Earth has ever faced."

"What threat?" I turned towards the new voice, recognizing it immediately. My heart leaped into my throat when I saw him, green skin, pointed ears and all. I couldn't believe he was here, and I hadn't even felt him behind me.

"P- Piccolo!" I shouted, rushing toward him. I couldn't keep the smile from my face, the first real smile I'd worn in years. "You're here! Alive!" My smile faded at his hard glare.

"What. Threat?" He repeated, his voice dangerously low.

Logically, I'd known that everyone would be alive again, but it was different actually seeing them. I'd somehow hoped for a happy reunion, everyone being ecstatic to see me, but I knew that wasn't realistic. They were cautious, guarded. I reigned in my emotions, slipping into the cold mask I normally wore. "Let's wait for everyone else so I don't have to repeat myself," I said. My father and Piccolo nodded, though I noticed that they kept themselves on either side of me, giving them a tactical advantage if I somehow turned out to be an enemy. I let go of my Super Saiyan transformation, powering down to appear less threatening, and I could see them relax slightly.

One by one, the rest of the warriors arrived. First Krillin and my younger self, then Tien and Chiaotzu, and finally Yamcha. Vegeta, I knew, was off-planet discovering his own path to the level of Super Saiyan. Each of the warriors looked at me curiously, though my dad deflected their questions. They all stared at me expectantly.

I took a deep breath, then started again. "My name is Son Gohan, and I'm from the future." My younger self gasped. "I've traveled back in time using a time machine Bulma and I built to deliver a warning. Two years from now, on March 10th, ten miles east of South City, two powerful androids will appear and start their destruction of mankind. No one will be safe from their onslaught. One by one, each of you will die horrible, violent deaths, falling to their overwhelming power. First Yamcha, then Tien and Chiaotzu, then Krillin, and eventually Vegeta and Piccolo as well. Only I remained standing. For eighteen years, I have battled these androids almost daily, trying to save what few people I could. I failed. Now, there's no one left. Humanity is an extinct species."

"What about Goku?" Krillin asked, his eyes wide. "You didn't mention him!"

I sighed. "Goku... doesn't live long enough to fight them. If he had, we might have stood a chance. A year from now, he dies from a rare heart virus with no cure."

"What? That's a bummer!" Goku asked, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes. "I would love a shot at those androids! They sound really tough!"

"Really? That's what you're worried about?" I tried to keep myself calm. "Everyone you know and pretend to care about is going to die." I could see the hurt in his eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty about it.

"Now hold on a minute-" Yamcha started, but I cut him off with a glare. I'm pretty sure he almost pissed himself.

"However, in my time, Bulma created a cure for the virus." I reached into a pouch that once held Senzu Beans and withdrew a small bottle no bigger than my thumb, then tossed it to Goku. "Take this when you start feeling sick, and you'll get better in a few days."

Goku nodded, sliding the vial into his own belted gi. "Gohan, what happened to you? To your arm?" I could feel him studying the air where my left arm used to be, concern written all over his face. I tried not to get angry, but I could feel a dull rage building in my chest. What right did he have to be concerned over me?

"Holy CRAP! His arm's gone!" Yamcha shouted.

I ignored him, keeping my gaze on my father. "Did you not listen? I've waged battle against two superior opponents almost every day for the better part of two decades. Beating me half to death has been their favorite game. Strong enough to give a challenge, but not so strong as to stand a chance of actually killing them. If I could get them one-on-one, I could stand a chance, but they learned not to fight alone against a Super Saiyan when Vegeta nearly destroyed one of them." I looked to the rest of the group, my hard gaze sweeping over them. "If they ever offer to fight you alone, just know that the moment you get the upper hand, the other one will attack your blind-side. You need at least two fighters as strong as I am now to defeat them."

"Vegeta becomes a Super Saiyan?" Tien asked, his eyes narrowed. "And fights to defend Earth?"

"Reluctantly," I admit.

"So with my dad and Vegeta, we should be okay?" Little Gohan asked, his eyes brimming with hope. I walked over to him, kneeling and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be there, too," I said softly. "I won't let this world suffer the same fate as my own. I made a promise to a dear friend that I'd fix things, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Then I'll help you!" He exclaimed brightly, a huge grin plastered on his face. I shook my head. If I had my way, he'd never get within a hundred miles of a battlefield again. "You can stay with us! You can train with dad and me, and we can all get strong enough to fight the androids!"

"That's... I can't," I reply, and his face fell. I looked at Goku, my eyes hard. "I don't belong there anymore." Goku's eyes furrowed. I could see the questions there, but I didn't want to answer them. How do you tell your absentee father that you didn't want to be around him? Instead, I turned to the rest of the group. "Two years, March 10th, 9 A.M., South City. Be ready."

* * *

Piccolo and I sat in front of our fire, resting after a long day of sparring. He'd followed me from the impromptu gathering, like I knew he would, and for the last month we'd been doing nothing but training. His silent nature was comforting; he seemed to understand that there was a lot I didn't want to talk about. The only sound now was the crackling of the fire I was tending to. I had asked for him to recreate the purple gi he'd made me when we first fought Nappa and Vegeta, and he'd done so with a few alterations. Gone was the ruffled collar, replaced with a v-neck that hinted at the scars criss-crossing my chest. My cape and shoulder pads, so like his, rested on the ground by my sleeping roll.

"You need your other arm," he said, not looking at me. He had beaten my base form black and blue today, taking advantage of my weak left side. If I had gone Super Saiyan, I could have easily defeated him, but there was no point. That wouldn't help me gain the strength I needed.

"I know."

"The wound's too old for a Senzu Bean."

"I know."

"You'll need the Dragon Balls."

"I know."

"Then you'll need to train with your father."

I gave him a sharp look. "Don't call him that."

"I know you have issues with Goku, but-"

"He's not my dad. He didn't raise me. He's just the guy who had sex with my mom," I could see that my venom surprised him. "I have more memories of you than I do of him." This was not a subject I wanted to get into, and my mentor could tell. Instead, he changed tactics.

"Regardless, you'll need him to improve."

"Why?"

"He's the only one who can push your limits. I can't help you get stronger." The admission must have been tough for him, but I knew he was right. I could help him get stronger, but in the meantime I'd be stagnating.

"What about you?"

"I think I'm going to whip Krillin into shape," he replied with an evil grin. "Firing ki blasts at the water isn't training."

I laughed, my scarred face twisting into a grin. I knew all too well the nightmare that Krillin was soon to endure. "Getting the Dragon Balls might be a problem," I said. "I'll need the Dragon Radar."

"And?" He asked, obviously confused. "You should be able to gather them in a few days."

"That means talking to Bulma." It was something I'd been putting off for awhile. I knew I was being a coward, but I couldn't face her. After everything that had happened, I didn't know if I could handle a Bulma who didn't even know me, who didn't remember patching me up after my fights with the androids. One who didn't remember helping me teach Trunks how to fly. But worst of all, what if she was kind to me? After failing Trunks, after failing her, I didn't deserve her kindness.

"Gohan," Piccolo said, placing his clawed hand on my shoulder, "I can't pretend to know what you've gone through these past twenty years. But I do know that it's not your fault. The androids are to blame, not you. You've grown into a good man, and I'm proud to call you my student. From what you've told me, you've done everything that could be expected of you and more. The strength to pull yourself back up, time and time again, to charge back into a battle you're sure to lose? I don't know many who could have done what you did."

"Thanks, Piccolo. That means a lot," I replied, though I knew he was wrong. A good man could have saved Trunks. "I'm going to bed. I'll need an early start tomorrow if I'm going to go after the Dragon Balls." The Namekian nodded, solemnly turning back towards the fire.

" _Look who it is, sis! Goldenrod is back for more!" Android Seventeen's scummy voice echoed in the concrete canyons once known as East City. Now it was just another pile of rubble and blood. A group of people, maybe twenty in all, were huddled in a burned out building. A young mother clutched at her toddler, who was wailing loudly. A man, who I assumed was the child's father, stood in front of them protectively, though I could see the paralyzing fear in his eyes._

" _So he is! He's growing up so fast, too," Eighteen mocked from my right, her lifeless blue eyes focused on me, their previous prey all but forgotten. I was barely fourteen, but I'd grown a lot over the past month since their last rampage. Already in Super Saiyan form, I crouched deeper into my ready stance. The battle would start soon, and I hoped that the people inside would have the sense to run and hide while I distracted the androids._

 _Without warning, I dashed towards Eighteen, appearing behind her and planting my foot upside her head. She rocketed away towards a nearby store, crashing through the glass windows and disappearing through the wall beyond. Instead of pressing my advantage, I dodged to the left, anticipating Seventeen's well-aimed energy blasts. I deflected what I could, took one to my left thigh, then rocketed towards Seventeen, barrel rolling through another pair of ki blasts. He caught my fist in his left hand, but I managed to grab his counter attack, holding on to his right wrist. We struggled against each other, neither giving an inch, until his right hand opened, glowing a bright yellow, and I had to duck or lose my head. The energy blast sailed inches over my hair, but I didn't have time to thank my good fortune. His knee came crashing up into my jaw, sending my flying... right into Eighteen's waiting grasp. She locked her arms under mine, leaving me defenseless as Seventeen leisurely flew up to us._

" _What's the matter, goldie?" He taunted, burying his fist into my gut. I would have cried out from the pain, but he'd knocked all the air from my lungs, so I only managed a rasping gasp. "What are you doing, hanging out way up here?" He pummeled me again and again, until I stopped struggling, hanging limp in Eighteen's arms._

" _Is he unconscious already?" She asked, annoyed. "I didn't even get a good hit in. Why are you always so selfish, Seventeen?" Her grip loosened slightly, and I took my chance, driving my head back into her face. Her hold broken, she clutched at her jaw, and I attacked Seventeen with a flurry of punches and kicks that he was too surprised to dodge. He blocked a couple, but a well-timed feint got through his guard, allowing me to send him crashing towards the ground with a powerful kick. I blocked Eighteen's following punch, but realized too late that it was a diversion, as her other hand penetrated my guard, blasting me away with an energy bolt. Before I could right myself, she appeared above me, her face twisted into a smirk as she stomped on my chest. I could feel my body bend around the point of impact, then the force sent me careening into a nearby skyscraper._

 _I managed to stumble to my feet, glancing across the street towards the burned out building that had housed the civilians. There was no sign of them; they'd run as soon as my fight with the androids had started. There was no reason to continue this fight. I'd completed my goals, now I needed to retreat._

 _The androids had other plans._

" _Come out, come out wherever you are!" Eighteen taunted, her voice carrying through the hole I'd made in the roof._

" _I hate hide and seek," Seventeen replied. I could hear him charging up a blast of energy, so I did the only thing I could: diving out the nearest window. The blast's explosion still caught me, sending me spiraling through the air. I cried out in pain as the heat washed over me, then again as Eighteen kicked me upside the head._

 _Again and again they hit me at full force, pinballing me between themselves. Time and time again, they punished me with bone-crushing force. I had no chance to collect myself, to defend against their onslaught. I felt myself lose my grip on my Super Saiyan transformation, but they still didn't stop. Finally, Seventeen laced his hands together above his head, bringing them down on my back. I crashed downwards,cratering the ground as I landed, a particularly sharp rock cutting a jagged line across my face._

" _I think he's had enough for today," Eighteen said, smirking and brushing her hair out of her face. "He's no fun anymore."_

" _I guess," Seventeen complied. "Until next time, kid."_

" _I can't believe you let him hit you like that,"_

" _He got you a couple times, too!"_

" _Only when he caught me by surprise!"_

 _Their voices disappeared in the distance, but I still couldn't move. It was well into the night before I found the strength to stand. Stumbling to my feet, I gathered what ki I could and started the long flight back to Capsule Corp. Maybe Bulma had finally found a way to recreate the healing pods we'd seen on Namek._

Piccolo was gone when I woke up. He had banked the coals from our fire, but they were still hot enough to fry a quick breakfast. It was still mostly dark out, with the sun just starting to creep over the distant treeline. After a dip in the lake to wash myself of the sweat and dirt I'd collected over the past few days, I put on my gi, then pulled on the caped shoulder pads. The white fabric would hide the nub where my arm used to be; I didn't want Bulma seeing that. Hopefully she wouldn't notice the empty space where it used to be.

I took my time flying to West City, each mile making me more nervous than the last. What would the others have told her? What did she know? It was midday by the time I'd reached Capsule Corp. I could see Yamcha lounging on one of the decks, wearing civilian clothes and slurping down a soft drink. Hard at work, as usual. There's a reason he died first.

He noticed me as I touched down, automatically shifting into a more defensive posture. Interesting. He saw me as a threat, but why? I hadn't given any of the Z Fighters a reason to fear me. "Yamcha," I greeted, standing over him. He scrabbled to his feet.

"Gohan! Nice to see you, man!" He cried, like we were suddenly old friends. His body language still suggested he was in fight-or-flight mode, though. He clasped me on the shoulder, pushing my pads askew. I lacked a shoulder on that side, after all. "Uh... Sorry about that."

"Not a problem," I said, rearranging the pads into place. "Shouldn't you be training with the others?"

"Ah, well, you see... I decided to sit this one out," he admitted, staring at the ground. "If they're as powerful as you say they are, I'd really only get in the way." I privately agreed. I'd outpaced Yamcha when I was four years old.

"If that's what you want. Is Bulma around?"

"Uh... yeah. Why do you ask?" His uneasy smile fell slightly.

I was starting to lose patience. "Because I need to talk to her."

"I think she's kind of busy at the moment. She's been trying to figure out that Time Machine you mentioned," he admitted. "It's all she's been able to talk about for weeks! I mean, it's better than baby names and strollers, but still... Wait, where are you going?"

"Inside," I replied, sliding open the glass door and stepping into the air conditioned building. Unfortunately, Yamcha followed me.

"So what do you need to talk to her about?" Had he always talked this much?

"No offense, but that's really none of your business." I was trying to be polite, but his whiny voice was starting to grate on me.

"Yeah, cool man. Totally. She should be around here somewhere," he said, leading the way. He was quiet for maybe thirty seconds. "So... what was your relationship with Bulma? In the future, I mean."

And there it was. That's why he was so defensive and uneasy. He saw me as a threat to his nonexistent relationship with Bulma. I almost facepalmed at his idiocy. Bulma, _my_ Bulma, was old enough to be my mother. "Are we really doing this right now?"

"Doing what?" He asked, his voice raising half an octave. "I was just curious. None of us really know what it was like in the future."

"Hell. Imagine the worst possible hell you can, then multiply it by a hundred. That's the future. And to answer your question... Bulma was my best friend, nurse, and teacher all rolled into one. She taught me everything I know about particle physics, mechanical engineering, and she designed the time machine that I later had to finish. She put me back together every time the androids tore me apart. She made sure I had enough to eat and that I took care of myself. She's the best person I've ever met," I paused, looking for the right words, then decided to stop there. I wasn't going to confide in Yamcha, of all people. I'd already said too much.

"Oh, do go on. You're doing wonders for my ego," a voice, _her_ voice said behind me. I whirled, one of my shoulder pads knocking into Yamcha's face, knocking them askew again. He fell back with a startled, "Hey!"

"Bulma," I breathed, not quite believing my eyes, but there she was, leaning in the doorway. She was younger than I remembered, her hair shorter, but besides that, she was exactly the same. Her blue eyes full of life and mirth, the small smile tilting up towards the left. I hadn't seen that smile since Trunks died. Speaking of Trunks, she was most definitely carrying my past, or was it future, student.

She walked up to me slowly, her eyes brimming with curiosity. "You must be 'Future Gohan.' I've heard a lot about you," she said, settling my shoulder pads back into place. "You're taller than I thought you'd be. I thought you'd be Goku's height, but it looks like you've got a few inches on him. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, considering who your grandfather is!"

"Future Gohan? Is that what they're calling me?" I asked, looking down at her.

She nodded, "Mhm. It's better than 'Adult Gohan,' or 'Big Gohan,' though the latter certainly fits!"

"I'd prefer just 'Gohan,' to be honest," I said, unable to hide my blush. "Though as long as you don't call me 'Stumpy' or 'Old One-Arm,' we should be fine."

She laughed, her eyes shining. "See? Now I have to call you Stumpy." I almost facepalmed again. I should have known that Bulma would latch on to an embarrassing nickname faster than Yajirobe with a box of donuts. "So... We were close? In the future?"

I glanced at Yamcha. "Maybe we should talk privately," I replied. "But yeah, you were my best friend."

She took my hint. "Yamcha, we're going to go down to the lab and look at this so-called Time Machine, okay?"

"Are you sure that's safe?" He countered, eyeing me warily.

She rolled her eyes, "Is there anything you could do if it wasn't?" Ouch. Young Bulma had a sharp tongue. "Later, Yamcha." She took me by the hand, leading me down towards the basement, though I knew full well where her lab was. Down the stairs, to the right. The password was 'Trunks' in my time, though I guess it would be something else now.

"Namek," she said, opening up the door. Interesting choice, though a good one. Only a handful of people on the planet would even know the word, and all of them were friends. The door slid open, revealing her lab. It was in better shape than I remembered, the metal surfaces shone brilliantly, it was well lit, and there were no cracks in the walls.

"So, what do you think?" She asked, turning towards me and letting go of my hand. "Pretty cool, right?"

"You know, I have been here before," I joked, taking it all in. There were several projects in the room I'd never seen before, half built constructions that I didn't recognize. "But yeah, it's pretty cool."

"So... you never really answered my question. How close were we in the future? Tell me everything!" She seemed to remember something. "But first, let me see the time machine! I can't believe that I, Bulma Briefs, invented time travel!"

I nodded, removing my capsule case from the belt of my gi and releasing the time machine from its capsule. "Well, after mom died, I came to live here. I was seventeen at the time," I replied. I ignored her pitying look. "That's about when the androids really upped their game. Before that, I'd see you once a month or so and let you patch me up. Afterwards, well, it was a few times per week. I guess they got bored with whatever they were doing and decided to draw me out as much as possible."

"How'd they do that? Flash a big 'G' in the sky?"

"Killing people," I replied simply. "A lot of the remaining communities had set up a CB radio system, to warn the others that they were under attack. I was always within ear shot of one, just in case."

She seemed surprised. "So... they'd call you for help?"

"Essentially. And I'd come, if I could," I replied. "Sometimes I was too injured, and you'd sit on me to keep me from going." I had turned it into kind of a joke, but it was really no laughing matter. I remembered lying there, helpless, as Bulma and I listened to the people scream over the radio. Neither of us could do anything about it, but we couldn't bring ourselves to turn it off, either. I can still hear their cries, begging, pleading for someone to save them.

"-han? Gohan?" I turned my attention back to her. "I lost you for a couple minutes, big guy."

"Sorry... just remembering."

"Nothing to be sorry about," she replied, placing a hand on my chest. "It must have been rough."

"Yeah."

"How... how did you do it? Keep going back, knowing you'd lose?"

"I couldn't just let them die," I replied, slightly harsher than I intended.

"Of course you couldn't. You're just like your father."

"In what regard?" I asked, my eyes, narrowing slightly.

"You know, the whole 'saving people thing." She replied, unaware that she had touched a nerve. She obviously didn't know my father that well. Goku fought for the sake of fighting, nothing more. All he lived for was the thrill of battle. And when he wasn't fighting, he was off training to fight, or dead and training to fight.

"I guess," I replied, trying to be polite. I watched as she examined the time machine. She looked at me questioningly, and I nodded, giving her permission to do her thing. With glee, she started pulling apart the access panels, shining a flashlight into the machine's under carriage. I'd missed this. I used to sit down here for hours, just watching her work. Occasionally, she would call me over and point out what she was doing, and why it worked. I had learned so much.

I didn't have time for that, now. I had to train. I wouldn't let her die again. "Bulma?"

"Yeah, sweetie?" She called, her head buried neck deep into the time machine.

"I need the Dragon Radar, if you don't mind."

She pulled her head out of the machine, her eyes shining with curiosity again. "Oooooh, now that's an interesting request. What are you gonna wish for?"

I quirked an eyebrow, then gestured towards my missing arm. She caught on quickly, then blushed. "Or I could wish for the "Perfect Girlfriend." I hear that's what all the cool kids do."

"I told you about that?!"

"You told me about a lot of things."

"Gotcha. Uuuh... main desk, second drawer on the right. Make sure you bring it back!"

"I will. Have fun with your new toy."

"Oh, I will. This tech is amazing! I am such a genius!" That, at least, we could agree on. I turned to leave, with her calling after me. "See you soon, Stumpy!"

* * *

 **A/N: There's Chapter One, people! I hope you liked it. Make sure to review! Reviews make me write faster... hint, hint.**


	3. CHAPTER TWO

**Spark of Hope**

 **By Justin Jossart**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own DBZ.**

 **CHAPTER TWO**

" _Trunks! What the hell are you doing here?" I shouted, rage and concern warring within me. He wasn't ready! I had specifically told him to stay behind. "GO HOME!"_

" _No!" he yelled back, his tone defiant. "I won't stand by anymore! This ends today!"_

 _He streaked towards Seventeen with lightning speed, much faster than any normal person could even perceive. To my enhanced perception, however, he might as well have been moving in slow motion. I was hot on his heels, reaching desperately for his outstretched foot. Seventeen could end him in a single blow. My fingertips brushed against the fabric of his sweatpants, but a massive blow from Eighteen sent me careening towards the ground._

 _Ignoring the pain, I launched toward my student again, who had started attacking the dark-haired android. Igniting my aura for an extra boost of speed, I hoped that Eighteen wouldn't interfere again. However, my hopes were unfounded. I instinctively dodged a second kick and grabbed her leg. I pulled it towards me, body checking the blonde with a vicious shoulder tackle. She gasped, trying to catch her breath, but I wouldn't give her time to recover. I laced my hands above my head then brought them down with all the force I could muster on the back of her neck._

 _After introducing Eighteen to the city street below, I turned my attention back to Seventeen and Trunks. They were high above me, two dark specks in the evening sky. At least he was still alive. Apparently Seventeen was enjoying his new toy; I could hear him laughing as he effortlessly dodged Trunks's slow attacks._

 _I quickly joined them, putting a hand on Trunks's shoulder. "Do you see now? GO!" Trunks glared at me. He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him him off. "LEAVE! NOW!" My anger caused my golden aura to flare wildly. Trunks finally started to comply, eyes wide, but Seventeen suddenly appeared in front of him. With a simple push, the android sent Trunks flying back towards me. I easily caught him and placed myself between Seventeen and my student._

" _Oh, Goldie, it's **way** too late for that," Seventeen smirked. I could hear Eighteen's mocking cackle from behind me. We were surrounded, trapped like caged animals. I'd been in the same situation dozens of times before, but I could feel Trunks shake in fear._

" _Did you really think we'd let him leave?" Eighteen said. "One of you is dying today."_

" _What?" Seventeen asked, confused. "This could be a totally new game! I call it 'Watch Goldenrod Try to Save a Stupid Kid."_

" _That is literally the dumbest name ever," she replied dryly._

 _Seventeen shrugged. "It's a work in progress."_

" _Well consider it over, because it's not going to happen."_

" _But why? It's not like he's a threat!"_

" _Not yet, but remember Vegeta? Remember how close he got to killing you?"_

 _Seventeen frowned. "I had that completely under control."_

 _I'd heard enough. Grabbing Trunks, I dove towards the city below. Maybe if I could reach the ruined skyscrapers, we could lose them. It was a long shot, but it was all I had. Not for the first time, I wished that I'd had the chance to learn Tien's Solar Flare technique. It didn't matter. There was no way that they could catch up. I poured all my speed into that dive. Trunks whooped in my ear, his excitement getting the better of him._

 _A faint whistling alerted me to an incoming energy blast. I altered my trajectory to dodge the yellow beam, forfeiting a bit of momentum for safety. It was a mistake. I should have done a barrel roll, which would have sacrificed much less speed for the same result. A seemingly minute error, but a single blown decision in the heat of battle would cost me everything._

 _Seventeen appeared in front of me, his icy blue eyes dancing with laughter. I made to plow straight through him, not even slowing down, but it seemed he'd anticipated that. Another miniature sun took form in his palm, lighting up the darkening sky. I was forced to change directions again, sacrificing even more speed. I was moving far too slow to get away now. A bone shattering kick launched Trunks and I towards the ground. The city street cratered with the force of our landing, and I lost my grip on the boy._

 _Strong hands grabbed at my collar, pulling me into a half-kneeling position before pummeling me back into the asphalt. My vision swam, and I battled with unconsciousness as Seventeen repeated the process two more times. I could feel my strength diminish as I lost control of my Super Saiyan transformation. I heard a sharp crack, followed immediately by Trunks howling in pain. I forced myself onto my hands and knees, trying to collect my bearings. Another crack, and Trunks cried out again._

 _Looking up, I could see Eighteen holding Trunks by the throat. Both of his legs hung limply at impossible angles, obviously broken. If he wasn't being strangled, he'd have been sobbing from the pain. Tears leaked from his wide eyes, his frantic hands scrabbling uselessly at Eighteen's iron grip._

" _Stop!" I shouted, desperately. Seventeen kicked me back to the ground, putting his knee on my back. His hands gripped my head, forcing me to watch Eighteen slowly strangle the life out of my surrogate little brother._

" _My sister's right," he said casually. "We don't need two of you running around. But being the kind, giving soul that I am, you get to choose who dies. Either I snap your neck right now, or Eighteen kills the kid. You'd better make up your mind quickly, though. I don't think he'll last much longer."_

 _I didn't even need to think about it. "ME! Kill me!"_

" _No... Gohan..." Trunks managed to croak._

" _Kill me," I repeated firmly. "Please, just let him go."_

" _Do you have any idea how much I've looked forward to this moment? To the end of our little game? It's bittersweet, don't you think? We've had a good run, but sadly all good things must come to an end. Don't worry, though. Trunks and I are gonna have a lot of fun." He turned his attention to Eighteen. "You heard him, Sis. Let the kid go."_

 _Eighteen smirked. "Okay. I'll let him go..." With a might heave, she threw Trunks skyward, a ball of energy forming in her outstretched hand. I could feel its power wash over me. There was no way Trunks could survive it."STRAIGHT TO HELL!" She loosed the energy blast._

 _Time slowed to a crawl as I howled in desperation. My aura exploded, shining a brilliant gold. Its heat forced Seventeen to let go of me. I could hear him curse in pain, but I paid him no mind. I had to reach Trunks before that yellow wave of death. I've never moved so fast in my life, using every drop of ki I had to move ever faster. The energy blast and I raced towards my falling student. I gained ground quickly, and for a single moment I allowed myself to believe that I'd get there first. I reached out to grab Trunks, to pull him to safety. My fingertips were just inches away..._

 _Then the blast hit my outstretched hand. Pain... unbelievable pain lanced through my body as the explosion consumed us._

I woke up, gasping for air. The nightmares were worse than ever, tormenting me every time I closed my eyes. After a few moments, my heartbeat returned to normal and my breathing calmed. I was camping out by a lake near South City. I could hear the water break against the shoreline, its repetition soothing. I groped in the early morning darkness into the duffel bag I'd used as a pillow. Peering inside, I made sure I still had six Balls and the Dragon Radar tucked away safely. I wouldn't need the Radar for the last Dragon Ball; I knew where the Four Star was. I'd procrastinated as long as I could, but I couldn't put it off any longer. I'd have to go to Mt. Paozu today. I'd have to visit my childhood home.

Goku, being Goku, would probably ask for a full contact spar, my mom would fuss, and mini-me would ask a thousand questions. It was sure to be a trying day, though I knew that I'd at least get a good meal out of it.

I still had a few hours left before daylight, though, and I decided to spend them meditating. My center was difficult to find this morning, however. Last night's nightmare had my thoughts all over the place. Giving it up as a bad job, I settled on a morning work out instead. I flew slightly above the treeline, launching into a flurry of punches and kicks, striking hard against an imaginary opponent. After a few moments, that opponent took form: The sneering face of Android Eighteen. In my mind, I battered her across the skyline, weaving in and out of her blows.

After an hour, I finally gave the imaginary Eighteen a reprieve. While both of the androids had an astronomical body count, Eighteen had taken the most from me. She had too many of my friend's blood on her hands: Krillin, Piccolo, Vegeta, and Trunks had all fallen before her, not to mention my left arm. As a kid, I'd never imagined I could hit a woman, but Eighteen had proven otherwise. I'd gladly rip her limb from limb if given half a chance.

It was a several hour flight to my old home, though I knew the route like the back of my hand. Even if I hadn't, I had Goku's powerful ki to guide me. Unlike my trip to Capsule Corp, I didn't sandbag. If I was going to do this, I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Hopefully I'd be able to get in, get the Dragon Ball, and leave.

When I finally touched down outside the small cottage, I couldn't help but feel slightly nervous again. I knew what the price of taking the Dragon Ball was likely to be. Could I beat Goku in a spar? I didn't know. I certainly didn't lack for motivation. Hesitantly, I reached to knock on the door, but it flung open before I could touch it. I was greeted by a beaming mini-me, his eyes brimming with excitement. I'd forgotten how formally Mom had made me dress back then.

"It's you! I mean, me. I mean... You know what I mean!" He turned towards the inside of the house. "Mom, Dad! Mister Future Gohan's here!" I had hoped that that nickname hadn't stuck, but I guess not. Hopefully, it would eventually be phased out. "Come in!" he shouted, throwing the door open wide. I hesitated for a brief moment before following my childhood self into the house.

It was surreal, standing in that house again. I hadn't been here in years; not since Mom had passed away. Everything was just like I remembered. The same pictures hung on the walls, the same ornate vases stood on the mantle. I tried not to envision blood staining the walls. "You have to take off the cape, Mister Future Gohan. Mom doesn't allow them in the house." Nodding, I shucked the weighted cape over my head, setting it carefully by the door. I self-consciously turned my left side from view, hiding the burned stump that remained of my arm. I felt Goku enter the room before I saw him. His ki was a beacon in my periphery, powerful enough that I was always aware of its location. I wondered if the others felt my own ki the same way.

"Gohan, go finish your homework," he said, not unkindly. "I need to have a talk with future you." Interesting. I couldn't help but be intrigued as I watched Gohan trudge up the stairs, grumbling. This wasn't what I was expecting at all. I had anticipated being accosted by my mother the moment I stepped into the house, but then again, she wasn't _my_ mother, was she? She was an alternate universe version of my mother, who already had a son to dote on. "Join me for a quick flight?" Goku asked, heading towards the door. I followed him outside, and we took off in silence. We landed near the river where he and I had fished a few times.

"I want to thank you, Gohan, for not accepting my son's invitation to stay with us," Goku started, his face solemn. "Chi-Chi has been upset since she learned about you. I've tried to protect her from the worst of what little you've told us, but she's smart. She's pretty much figured it out."

"Okay?" I didn't see where this was going.

"She blames herself for what's happened to you."

"What? Why?"

"You're her son. Sort of. A picture of what her son might be forced to become. She's never wanted this for you, we both know it." I nodded, still confused. "She thinks that it's all her fault. That if she had let you train more as a boy that you'd have been able to beat the androids and save everyone, then go back to your studies."

"That's absurd!" I shouted, my voice hitching. "She _died_ protecting me from them! They tortured her for hours, trying to find out where I was! This is _my_ fault! I'm the one who failed _her_!"

"It's not about blame, Gohan. There's only two people at fault for everything you've been through: the androids of your time."

Wait, he wasn't implying... "And the androids of _this_ time won't hesitate to do the same."

"Maybe, maybe not," he shrugged. "Gohan, Little Gohan, I mean, has tried to explain this 'Multiverse Theory' to me, but I really don't get it. Just remember that things may not be the same as you remember. You being here, warning us, changes everything. This medicine changes everything." He pulled the small bottle from his waistband, showing it to me.

"You can tell that to Yamcha when they bludgeon him to death with his own leg," I snarled.

He held up a hand. "I'm not saying you're wrong, but I'm not saying you're right, either. We'll see."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Goku was willing to give the androids the chance to be good guys, like he had with Piccolo, Tien and Vegeta. "This isn't like Piccolo or Tien. You don't understand the amount of blood on their hands. The sheer number of people they've killed. _All_ of them, Goku. Literally every single person on the planet."

"As far as I know, these androids have never killed anyone. I won't destroy them for something they _might_ do."

"Then you'll die," I said simply.

He shook his head. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. Anyways, I guess you're here for the Four Star Dragon Ball?"

I nodded. "How did you know?"

"You've been criss-crossing the planet for days. It's the only thing that made sense, given that you'll need them to fix your arm."

Fair enough. "Can I have it?"

"On one condition,," Here it came. "I want to fight you." I knew it. I had hoped that I'd get away without this spar, but fortune didn't favor me today. First, my mother can't bear to see me, and I still had to fight Goku.

"Don't you want to wait until I have both arms? That way, you can fight me at my best," I was trying to play him, but it backfired.

"But then I'll have to wait until you relearn how to fight with two arms!" he whined, dropping his serious demeanor in an instant. "This is you at your best _right now_. We can fight again later."

Sighing, I realized that I didn't have a choice. Gathering my ki, I flicked the internal switch that allowed me to transform into a Super Saiyan. "Alright, then. Let's get this over with."

"No warmup?" He asked, smirking and transforming into a Super Saiyan himself. Though I'd transformed myself countless times, the raw power of a Super Saiyan still held me in awe. "What a shame."

"Where I come from, we don't toy with our foes. We fight to survive."

I dashed toward him, hard and fast, hoping to get him on his heels right away. He easily kept up, blocking and dodging my offensive. He met my fist with his own, and the air around us crackled with the force of the blow. We stayed there, frozen for a moment, before blurring into motion again. He was on the offensive this time, and I was hard pressed to keep up. While our power levels were about dead even, my father had a life time of martial arts training to fall back on, and two arms to use it. I had a broken education, at best, but more actual combat experience.

I noticed he was going for the same tactic Piccolo had used: attacking my weak left side to force me to overextend my right arm to block him. Well, it wasn't going to work. I turned my right shoulder towards him, protecting my left and forcing him to come at my good side. He smirked again, before disappearing and reappearing on my left. Damn. I'd forgotten about Instant Transmission. I ate a powerful punch across the jaw that sent me flying. I skipped across the river before crashing against one of the forest's towering trees. The ancient oak shook, but stood tall, sending me ricocheting harshly against the forest floor. Grimly, I picked myself up, dusting off my gi. I wasn't about to lose this fight. I'd fought with one arm for years now, and was well used to this particular handicap. Granted, the androids weren't really martial artists; they simply relied on their strength and stamina.

"Don't tell me that's all you've got!" Goku shouted, hovering above the river.

"I'm just getting started! Masenko-HA!" The bright yellow blast erupted from my hand, speeding towards him. I followed close behind, smirking as he raised his arms to block my attack. As the smoke cleared from the Masenko, I pummeled through his guard with everything I had, then grabbed his gi by the collar. He moved to break my grip, but a quick headbutt snapped his head back, and I drove him full force into the nearest tree. Instinctively leaping back and ducking, I lost the advantage, giving him time to collect himself.

"Wow! That was amazing! Why didn't you follow up?" He asked, smiling and scratching the back of his head.

"A lifetime of getting pummeled whenever I pressed my advantage. Like I said before: the androids don't believe in fighting fair."

"That's too bad! You might have had me there. That trick won't work twice!"

"I didn't expect it to."

He raised his fingers to his forehead and disappeared again, but I knew where he'd end up. I spun my right leg around in a powerful roundhouse to my left side, right as he appeared. I had caught him completely by surprise, knocking the wind out of him. I brought my elbow down on his back, forcing him to the ground. A hard kick to the solar plexus sent him skipping through the forest, but I wasn't done yet! He landed hard against a tree, and I moved in, cocking a fist back. He ducked beneath the blow, letting my fist obliterate the tree trunk instead of his face. He planted his elbow into my gut as the tree toppled. A quick flurry of punishing punches and kicks sent me reeling. He finished his offensive with a powerful uppercut, launching me above the treeline. I righted myself in time to guard against his next few attacks, then countered with an offensive of my own.

That's when I realized it. That's the moment I realized that I was better than Goku. While we had almost identical power levels, the vast majority of his time was spent training. Thinking about it, he'd only been in three real fights in almost a decade: Raditz, Vegeta and Frieza. In the same amount of time, I'd been in hundreds of life-or-death battles. Piccolo once told me that the only real training a warrior would ever get is on the battlefield. Today, I finally understood why.

I also understood him a little better. He was a born warrior, a natural fighter who rarely got to see real battle. So he spent his time doing the next best thing: training his body so that when he _did_ fight, he'd be ready. I still blamed him for his failings as a father, but I understood better _why_ he was the way he was.

My offensive broke through his guard, and a fierce punch to his jaw sent him flying. I easily kept pace, ending his flight prematurely with a roundhouse that sent him careening in the other direction. Appearing behind him again, I brought my elbow down onto his back, and he rocketed towards the river far below. He landed with an almighty splash, and for a moment I was concerned that he wouldn't come back up. However, I few seconds later he reemerged at the shoreline, hacking and coughing up water.

"That was _amazing_!" he crowed as I touched down beside him. "I never thought you'd be this good!" I could see the excitement in his eyes. He was gearing up for round three, but I was done. There was no point anymore. I released my Super Saiyan transformation, allowing my hair to settle and revert to its natural black.

"Satisfied?"

"What? But we're just getting started!" He dropped his transformation as well.

"Look, I'll fight you all you want soon enough. But right now, I need the Dragon Ball, and I have to return Bulma's radar."

He pouted like a little kid. "Alright. Let's go back to the house," he whined. "But we're going to fight again soon!"

"Yeah," I replied dryly. "We'll fight again soon." I'd likely spend the better part of the next two years sparring with Goku. It wasn't something I was looking forward to. I hated fighting; I always had. I wasn't like Goku and Vegeta, who were always looking forward to the next battle. I fought because I had to. If I didn't, people would die. I had the strength to protect them, so it was my responsibility to do so.

We made our way back to the house. I waited impatiently outside while Goku entered to retrieve the Dragon Ball. If what he said was true, I didn't want to cause my mother any more pain, so I didn't even consider following him in. A few minutes later, Goku returned, the Ball in one hand, my weighted cape and duffel in the other.

"Well, here it is!"

"Thanks," I said. "I'll see you soon."

He paused, uncertain. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"Why start now?" I replied harshly, my tone colder than ice. I turned to leave, but his strong grip held me in place. I looked at him over my shoulder, quirking my brow.

"Gohan... What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

"It's not what you did; it's what you didn't do." I shrugged his hand from shoulder and took off. I knew coming here was a bad idea.

I flew back to the clearing Goku and I had just vacated. It was as good a spot as any to summon Shenron. I carefully removed each Dragon Ball from my duffel bag, neatly arranging them in a rough circle.

After taking a deep breath to collect my nerves, I called to the Dragon Balls. "Arise all-mighty Shenron, and grant my wish!" I'd only seen the Balls used a couple of times long ago, but I knew what to expect. Almost at once, the Dragon Balls started glowing. As they grew brighter, the evening sky darkened. Lightning crackled in the clouds above. Then, from the Balls sprung a bright light, twisting and coiling upon itself. Higher and higher it reached, before coalescing into the form of an enormous green and gold dragon. After a moment, the dragon spoke.

"You who have collected all seven Dragon Balls, state your wish," Shenron commanded. His voice was not exactly loud, just powerful. I could feel it reverberate in my very soul.

"Please, Shenron, restore my lost arm! That is my wish!" I was excited. Soon I'd have both my arms back! I'd be able to talk to friends and family without feeling self-conscious, without watching their eyes fill with pity whenever they looked at the spot my arm used to be. I'd be able to fight at my full potential and protect the people I loved.

Shenron's eyes glowed. For a long moment, the dragon floated there, almost motionless. "That wish cannot be granted."

My heart sank. "Why not?" I asked in disbelief.

"Your arm was not lost in this universe. It is beyond my reach." He seemed almost apologetic.

"Can't you just grow me another one?"

"I could, but it would be inadvisable. As you are not of this universe, your soul does not reside here. I cannot touch it. The arm would not be connected to your spirit, only your body." Meaning that it couldn't channel ki. I wouldn't be able to use my ki to increase its durability or power. It would be more of a hindrance than a help in battle.

"I see. Can I save this wish? I have to speak to a friend."

"You may. I am sorry, warrior." The dragon disappeared within the balls, but they didn't turn to stone and scatter like they usually did. They landed heavily on the grass in front of me, their red stars glistening in the evening sun.

Rage and disappointment settled in my chest. Shouting at the top of my lungs, I struck the ground, cratering it around my fist. The force from the blow opened cracks and fissures for a hundred feet all around. Why could I not catch a break? No matter what I did, nothing ever went according to plan. Who would have thought that an all-powerful wish-granting dragon that could _restore the dead_ would be unable to fix a freaking arm? Then another thought struck me. If Shenron couldn't touch my soul, then he couldn't resurrect me. If I died, I'd stay dead. What would happen to me? Would my soul remain in this universe's afterlife, travel back to my own, or be caught in some sort of limbo in between? What if it just ceased to exist altogether?

Angrily, I shoved the Dragon Balls back into the duffel bag before collecting some wood for a fire. I'd return Bulma's Radar in the morning. I'd also give her the wish, since mine was such a bust.

* * *

" _Who wants popcorn?" Bulma asked as she stepped into dining room. In her hands was an enormous bowl, overflowing with salty, buttery goodness. The smell alone made my mouth water._

" _I do!" a ten year old Trunks shouted. The moment the bowl hit the table, he started shoving entire handfuls into his mouth._

" _Where on Earth did you find popcorn?" I asked, afraid of the answer. I worried every time she left the compound. The androids hadn't been to West City in awhile; they were overdue. Even so, I reached for a few pieces._

" _Oh, I just went down to the old shopping center this afternoon," she replied. Noticing my stunned look, she continued. "I was careful, no need to worry." I always worried. If something happened to them, either of them, it would break my heart. "I also got Trunks a present!"_

 _At the word 'present,' Trunks immediately perked up, the popcorn forgotten. "A present? What is it? Can I see?" Laughing, Bulma produced a medium-sized gift bag from behind her back. I had no idea where she'd gotten the tissue paper. Trunks tore into the bag, "AWESOME! Comic books! This is like, the entire run of the **Mystic Swordsman**! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"_

" _Happy Birthday, sweetie," Bulma said, pulling him into a hug. "I love you so much."_

" _Before you start reading, you want to open my present?" I ask. Trunks turned to me, his eyes wide. "What? You thought I'd forget your birthday?" I reached under the table, making sure not to bump my freshly injured right arm, and pulled out a heavy box. I hefted it onto the table with a loud thud._

 _He ripped apart the old newspapers I had used as wrapping paper, revealing a pair of weighted, caped shoulder pads. He looked at me uncertainly. "What is this?"_

" _You wear them, and it'll help you get stronger faster. The man I respected most in this world wore a set exactly like that. Plus, they look cool."_

" _Cool!" He said, though not nearly as enthusiastically as he had for the comic books. "Thanks, Gohan."_

" _Happy Birthday, squirt." He hadn't heard me, already engrossed in the first issue of the **Mystic Swordsman**._

" _Alright, I'm going to go finish the cake. You boys enjoy the popcorn," Bulma said, ruffling my hair._

 _\_

 _\"Hey Gohan?" Trunks said after a couple minutes. "What do you know about using a sword?"_

For once, I didn't wake up in a cold sweat. I smiled ruefully. What had I been thinking? No ten year old wants training equipment for his birthday. He'd never worn those shoulder pads, either, claiming that they chaffed his shoulders.

After a brief workout and a river bath, I headed off towards West City. It was a relatively short flight, considering that I'd literally criss-crossed the globe over the last few days. I was still disappointed about Shenron's inability to restore my arm, but I was in a surprisingly good mood. I had a good feeling about today.

I reached Capsule Corp by noon, It was a beautiful, clear day, and Bulma was taking advantage of the nice weather to get a little bit of a tan. I had to admit, she looked pretty good in a bathing suit. She saw me touch down and called me over.

"Hey, Stumpy!" She joked, taking off her sunglasses. "Did you bring back my Dragon Radar?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Thanks for letting me use it." I pulled the device out of my belt and handed it over. She looked it over, inspecting it for damage. Satisfied, she grinned up at me.

"No problem at all, big guy!" She noticed my still missing left arm. "When are you going to use the Dragon Balls?"

"Well," I admitted. "I kind of already did." She looked at me, quirking an eyebrow, so I continued. "Shenron can't restore my arm. It seems that since I'm not from this universe, he can't really directly affect my life force. He could make me an arm, but I wouldn't be able to channel ki with it."

She frowned. "Well, it would still be better than no arm at all, right?"

"Not really. Ki is what lets us take blows that would crush an army tank. Without it, my arm would be no stronger or more durable than a normal human's. It would be a huge liability in battle. One love tap from an android would shatter every bone in that arm."

"Oh, wow," she replied, obviously concerned. "So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," I replied. "There's not much that can be done."

"That blows," she said, her frown growing. She placed a delicate finger to her lips, her tell that she was thinking hard about something. "So, dumb question here, but why haven't I built you a cybernetic one in the future?"

"You could do that?" I was surprised, but I really shouldn't have been. We're talking about a woman that could invent a time machine.

"Well, yeah," she snarked. "Capsule Corp has a pretty big prosthetics division. Arms, legs, even eyes. So, I wonder why I didn't offer to build you an arm."

"Well, you didn't really have the chance," I hedged.

"Gohan, just tell me. Did I die or something?" She was getting impatient.

Fine. If she wanted to know so badly, I'd tell her. "The day I lost my arm... I lost something, some _one_ else that day. My student, Trunks... Trunks Briefs." Her eyebrows disappeared behind her sunglasses, but she didn't say anything. "He wasn't ready. He wasn't even supposed to be there. I told him to stay behind, but he was young and impulsive. He underestimated their strength. I tried to protect him, to save him, but I failed. You never spoke to me again." There. That was close enough to the truth to not be an outright lie. I couldn't tell her that upon seeing Trunks's body her mind shattered into a thousand pieces, that she spent the rest of her life staring at his grave in silence. I couldn't tell her that I spent two years taking care of her, making sure that she ate and bathed. As far as I was concerned, Bulma and Trunks died on the same day, her body just didn't know it yet.

"Gohan, I don't know what to say," she admitted. "I'm guessing that this Trunks was my son?"

"Yeah," I turned to leave. "He was like a little brother to me. I trained him, helped you raise him. I was there for every single one of his birthdays. I'm sorry I couldn't protect him. I'm sorry... for everything."

"Wait! Why are you leaving?"

I turned back towards her. "Don't you want me to? I let your son die." I was thoroughly confused. She surely didn't want me to stick around after all that, did she?

" _My_ son hasn't been born yet," she replied fiercely. "I don't hate you for something that hasn't even happened, that probably won't happen at all."

"Really?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"Yes, really. Gohan, you and I need to get one thing straight. _I'm not her_." She punctuated each word by poking me in the chest. "She and I are completely different people. So stop judging me by her standards, okay?" I nodded. "Now, about that cybernetic arm..."

"Thinking about it, I'm not so sure that it would work. It'd have the same problems that a normal arm would. Unless you have some secret metal that could take a full powered Super Saiyan punch, it'd just get destroyed."

"Of course I don't," she said. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It's a big universe. I'm sure there's a ki-channeling metallic alloy out there somewhere."

"No offense," I snarked. "But that doesn't really do us much good _here._ "

"Sure it does." She unzipped the duffel bag on my shoulder, peering inside. "Shenron may not be able to make you an arm, but he can definitely transport metal. Let's go."

"Go where?" I was thoroughly confused now. She was going to use the wish on some sort of ki-channeling metal? Would that even work?

"I'm not going to summon the dragon in the middle of the city," she replied dryly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We learned that lesson when we revived everyone with the Namekian Dragon Balls, remember?" I did remember, though vaguely. "So, take me somewhere a little less populated."

My mouth went dry as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed into me. I hadn't been this close to a woman in a long, long time. She was still wearing her bathing suit, and I could smell her coconut suntan oil. It was an intoxicating mix, made all the more so by how attractive she was. Even pregnant, Bulma was a beautiful woman. I kept telling myself that she was like an aunt to me, but it didn't really help. So I wrapped my arm around her and lifted off, taking care to go slow so she wouldn't lose her grip.

It took us about half an hour to reach the grassland that I had used to gather the Z-Warriors, and I was acutely aware of her the entire time. She kept marveling at how high up we were, squirming around so she could see everything. Every time she moved, her assets would rub against my chest. It was very distracting. Finally, we landed, and I disentangled myself from her as quickly as I could without being impolite.

"That was fun! We should totally do that again!" She crowed, beaming at me. "I can't believe you get to do that all the time. Sky cars are nice and all, but that was fantastic!"

"Yeah," I replied, grinning back at her. "It is pretty cool." It's amazing how we take things like flying for granted.

She yanked the duffel bag from shoulder and dumped the Dragon Balls into a pile on the grass. I guess I hadn't needed to arrange them into a neat circle after all. "Now, let me think. How do I want to word this?" She placed a finger to her lips. "Hmmm... I think I've got it. Are you ready?" She asked me. I nodded, and she turned back to the Dragon Balls. "Arise, almighty Shenron, and grant my wish!" For the second time in twenty-four hours, the sky darkened. Lightning streaked through the air as the Balls grew brighter. Once again, Shenron emerged from them, forming himself out of their brilliant light.

"You who have collected the seven Dragon Balls, state your wish." Shenron's voice still reverberated through me, though it didn't seem to have much of an effect on Bulma, probably because she'd done this more than a few times.

"Almighty Shenron, please bring to me two hundred pounds of a special metal that can channel ki. It needs to grow more durable as ki or energy is channeled through it, with no maximum limit to its potential durability. Can you grant this wish?"

Shenron's eyes glowed brightly. I held my breath as a full minute passed with no response. Finally, just as I began to lose hope, a stack of metal ingots appeared on the grass in front of us. They looked like the gold bricks I'd seen in a movie once, except they were dark, almost pitch black.

"Your wish has been granted," Shenron bellowed. In a flash of blinding light, he disappeared into the Dragon Balls, and I could briefly see the orange balls turn to stone before they shot out in every direction.

"Wow. I didn't think that would actually work," Bulma commented as she examined one of the ingots. "Huh. There's some sort of stamp on these." She showed me the ingot, and sure enough, there was an image of a star stamped into the metal. "I guess we stole them from someone. Oops."

"I hope whoever they are, they don't come looking for them," I said, a bit worried. The last thing I wanted was to bring more trouble down on the people of Earth.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. I really doubt that they can track it here from wherever _they_ are."

I looked at the stack of ingots, hoping she was right, before a more urgent thought crossed my mind. "Bulma, how are we going to transport these back to your house? I don't really have anything to carry them in, and I couldn't carry both you and them at the same time, anyway." She just laughed before reaching into her cleavage and pulling out a small capsule case. Popping it open, she clicked one and threw the capsule to the ground a few feet away. It bounced twice before exploding in a puff of smoke, from which a yellow cargo jet emerged.

"Wait, you had your capsules on you the whole time? Why couldn't we have used that for the flight here?" I cried indignantly.

She leaned in close, one hand around my neck. Her lips slightly brushed my ear as she whispered, "Now where would the fun be in that?" Gobsmacked, I could only stare as she winked at me. "Now help me load these up, Stumpy. We're burning daylight."

We loaded up pretty quickly, carefully strapping the ingots down in the cargo bay. Well, I loaded them while she directed. "So, what do you want to use the rest of the metal for?" she asked as I tightened the final strap.

"What?"

"You didn't really think I'd be making you a two-hundred pound arm, did you?"

I shook my head. "No, I thought you already had a plan for the rest."

"Nope, but why ask for twenty pounds when you can get ten times that?"

"Maybe because it'd be easier to transport?"

She dismissed my argument with a hand wave. "Oh, please. You could lift two _thousand_ pounds without breaking a sweat. And this is _your_ metal, it came from _your_ wish." Noticing my look of indignation, she continued. "I just helped you find the right wording, is all." What would I do with a couple hundred pounds of metal? I thought about it for a second, before remembering my dream from the previous night.

"Bulma, what do you know about forging a sword?"

* * *

 **A/N: And there's chapter two! I had a bit of trouble writing some of the dialogue, so I hope it doesn't sound too forced. Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and thanks in advance to everyone who reviews THIS chapter. Remember, reviews inspire me to write faster.**


	4. CHAPTER THREE

**Spark of Hope**

 **by Justin Jossart**

 **CHAPTER THREE**

" _Oh, Kami, please don't be dead."_

 _A woman's voice slowly voice brought the world into focus. I could vaguely make out a teenaged girl gently shaking my shoulder. She was probably trying to avoid exacerbating my many injuries. I could barely move. Everything hurt. Ever so slowly, my vision cleared enough for me to make out the girl's features._

 _She was remarkably attractive, boasting large cerulean eyes and dark hair tied into twin pigtails that framed her pretty face. She was slightly underfed, but still lithe and athletic. Her delicate brows were furrowed with concern. I recognized this girl. She was part of the group of people I had just saved. "There you are," she said with a small smile. "Let's get you up. Dad! Come help me!"_

" _Are you sure this is a good idea?" Another voice called from the top of the crater I was lying in. Shifting my focus, I could tell the owner was once a fighter or body builder, though his once bulging muscles had softened with disuse. His large afro was tangled with dirt, and a heavy beard covered an unbelievably strong chin._

" _He saved our lives, Dad."_

" _He could be one of them! You saw the things he could do!"_

" _He didn't have to save us!" She turned back to me. "Sorry about my dad. Times are pretty tough."_

" _It's no big deal," I replied weakly. "I don't want to put you in any danger."_

 _Rolling her eyes, she called to her father again. Hesitantly, the big man slid and stumbled to the bottom of the crater. After a whispered argument that I couldn't hear, he gently lifted me into his arms. I guess he wasn't as out of shape as I had originally assumed; he was able to lift my two hundred pounds of dead weight with only a grunt of effort._

" _It's going to be okay. We're taking you back home. We have some medicine," the girl assured me. "It's not too far."_

" _Who are you?"_

" _My name's Videl, and this is my father, Hercule."_

* * *

My blaring alarm jolted me awake. I fumbled for the snooze button, then rolled back over to try to escape back into my dream. It'd been awhile since I'd thought of Videl. She and her father had taken care of me for almost six weeks after a particularly brutal fight with the androids. She had been my first... everything. We had been close, as close as people could get in my world. Most people, myself included, didn't let themselves get too attached to anyone or anything.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder if in another lifetime Videl and I could have had something special. Even with my hesitation to getting too close to a civilian, I'd still pondered the possibility of bringing Videl and her father to Capsule Corp. I'd never had the chance to act on those ideas.

Thinking of Videl and Hercule's ultimate fates drove any thoughts of further sleep from my mind. Instead, I flicked my bedside lamp on and padded my way to the closet. Picking out a Capsule Corp t-shirt and sweatpants, I hastily pulled them on before making my way downstairs. I'd been staying at the Capsule Corp building for a week, since the evening we made our wish. Bulma claimed she needed me here for measurements and adjustments to the prosthetic, but we hadn't even started yet. Apparently, she needed time to develop a way to work with the mysterious metal that would ultimately become my new arm. Bulma had jokingly started calling the alloy _Kinium_ due to its ability to channel and even store ki.

"You're up early," Bulma noted as I stepped into the kitchen. She offered me a steaming mug, which predictably had the trademarked double 'C' logo on it. "Coffee?"

"Thanks," I accepted, taking a sip. "You're up early yourself."

"I had a breakthrough last night," she replied. "I think I'm ready to get your measurements. I wanted to catch you before you hid in the gravity chamber." She gave me a slightly tired grin, which I reciprocated. I was a little nervous, to be honest. I'd have to be shirtless for the measuring process, which would mean exposing Bulma to my charred stump and scarred torso. Logically, I knew it was a necessary evil, but I couldn't help but be self conscious. "Is Goku coming over today?"

"He'll be over a little later," I said, frowning slightly. She quirked her eyebrow, but didn't comment. Goku and I had been training almost every day in the gravity chamber Bulma had originally built for Vegeta. I had to admit, full contact sparring in 100x gravity was definitely an interesting experience. Goku hadn't mentioned my small outburst after he'd given me the Four Star Ball, and I wasn't going to bring it up. We'd silently come to a mutual understanding that training was good and discussing feelings was bad.

"Great!" Bulma said enthusiastically. "That means you're free!"

"Mind if I grab a bite to eat first?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Food can wait," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I can't really start on the prosthetic without those measurements." After pouring her own mug full of steaming coffee, she led me down to her lab. Her work space was as clean and sterile as it had been the last time I'd seen it. "Alright, Stumpy. Shirt off and hop on the table." I hesitated. I couldn't help it. This was the first time she would see my broken body, and an irrational part of me was terrified of her reaction. Her hand on my chest pulled me from my reverie. I hadn't noticed her move in so close. "Hey. It'll be okay, I promise."

Nodding, I took a deep breath, then peeled the t-shirt off. I heard her gasp as I pulled it over my head, but I was too far gone now. After the shirt was gone, I studied her face, looking for some sign of horror or disgust, but instead I saw an entirely different emotion that I couldn't recognize. She blushed prettily when she noticed me studying her. Hesitantly, almost reverently, she traced a scar that spanned the length of my right pectoral. Her eyes asked the question that she didn't voice.

"I crashed through a skyscraper. I wasn't really in a position to protect myself with ki." She nodded, before touching a burn on my side. "Energy blast." She brushed a line of five parallel scars that started at my collar bone and ended at my abs. Her blue eyes glanced back up at my face. She was entirely too close. "Eighteen wanted to test her new manicure." Finally, she lifted a delicate finger to my face, tracing the scar over my left eye. "A particularly jagged rock," I supplied, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. Next came the moment I was most afraid of. She let her hand graze my left shoulder, right above the charbroiled stump that used to be my left arm. Thankfully, she didn't ask for any details on that particular injury, and I was in no hurry to give them. She had already reverted back to her detached, clinical persona.

"Okay, judging by the injury, I think I'm going to have to build an entire shoulder piece. There's not enough left of your arm to attach the cybernetic one, so it'll have to be connected to the torso." She looked me in the eyes. "Gohan, attaching the prosthetic is going to hurt. A lot. I'm going to have to amputate what remains of your shoulder. Normally, we'd just put you under, but I'm going to need you awake to channel ki into the new arm while we surgically attach it to make sure the connection takes."

"Wait, I won't be able to take it off once it's attached?" Most prosthetic limbs I'd heard of were detachable.

"I'm afraid not. I've been thinking about it, and you're going to need it to be as solid as possible since it'll be taking blows that 'can crush an army tank.' You don't want the androids to literally punch your arm off, do you? I'm going to attach it here," she touched the outside of my left pectoral, then traced a line all the way up to my mid trapezius muscle.

She started measuring my good arm with a tape she snagged from her desk. "You'll have a shoulder piece that will hide the connections. The arm will have four separate armored plates, one on the shoulder, one the upper arm, one protecting the elbow joint, and one on the forearm. Corded 'muscles,' for lack of a better term, will be visible beneath the plates, but it can't be helped. I thought about making the arm completely plated, but those tend to be more stiff and less responsive than the one I have planned. The entire thing will end in a plated, five-fingered hand that will be almost as dexterous as a normal one. You won't be playing any Beethoven with it, but you could write and type if you needed to. I don't know if we've ever built such an extensive cybernetic limb, but it'll be worth it. I promise. It'll move and behave just like a normal arm, if not better in some ways."

"How will I control it?"

"Now that's the tricky part that I've been working on for the last week. It's going to be controlled by a micro-computer in the shoulder that receives signals from a transmitter we're going to have to wire into your spine." She noticed my look of concern. "It's typical for these types of prosthetics, but I still had to find a way to make the entire micro-computer and transmitter out of Kinium while isolating it from the rest. Otherwise you'd just short the electronics out whenever you powered up. Don't worry, big guy. I'll figure it out."

"Well, it sounds like you have everything under control," I said, suitably impressed. "How long until the arm's ready?"

"A month? Maybe two?" I was stunned. It had taken years to make the time machine. "Sorry it won't be sooner. I'm piggy-backing on already developed technology, but I'm going to have to heavily modify our constructors to handle Kinium. After that, it's as easy as inputting the specs. I'll have to do the final assembly by hand, of course."

"Thanks, Bulma. I really appreciate you doing all this."

She lightly punched my good shoulder. "What are friends for? Besides, working with Kinium has been pretty interesting." She handed me my shirt, done with her measurements. "So, what do you think?

To be honest, I didn't know what to think. The whole thing was a lot more complicated and invasive than I had originally assumed. Amputating my shoulder? Computer chips in my spine? It was a little more than I had bargained for. However, looking in Bulma's tired, cerulean eyes, I couldn't tell bring myself to voice my doubts. She had worked for a week with barely any sleep to get this project up and running, all for a guy she barely knew. So I bit down on my concerns, forcing myself to grin. "You've really outdone yourself."

She beamed up at me, before taking a step closer. "So, Gohan, I've been meaning to ask you something..." I could tell from her blush that whatever was on her mind would be highly embarrassing.

Thankfully, I was saved by Mrs. Brief's light knock on the door. "Bulma dear, Goku is here for your little friend."

I glanced at the bluenette apologetically. She rolled her eyes, gesturing for me to leave. "Go. Have fun!"

I managed to bite back my sarcastic retort. "Fun" time with my father. Yay.

* * *

"I bet you're pretty excited!" Goku said, dodging my incoming punch before returning one of his own.

"I guess," I replied, blocking his offensive. I was looking forward to the surgery and dreading it at the same time. On the one hand, I'd get a second arm, which would be great. On the other, it wouldn't be _my_ arm. It would be a machine attached to my body. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like. Despite Bulma's thorough description, my stunted imagination couldn't even begin to conjure an image of her latest project.

Narrowing his eyes, Goku planted a fist into my solar plexus, leaving me gasping on the floor. I fell heavily; the room was set to three hundred times Earth's normal gravity, and each movement was a strain. "You're not focused today." I gathered myself, getting back on my feet while Goku deactivated the room's gravity. "Listen, I know you're nervous, but Bulma's the best. She knows what she's doing."

"I know." I had known Bulma for as long as he had, after all. "It's just... I've spent so long fighting mechanical monsters that I'm-" I cut myself off. I'd forgotten for a moment who I was talking to.

"Worried that you're going to become one," Goku finished. I was stunned. When had my dad learned to think further than the next meal? "It's a normal reaction, I guess, but I wouldn't worry too much."

"Why not?"

"The androids were evil because of their actions. They chose to do what they did. As long as you keep on choosing to be a good guy, then it wouldn't matter if you were one hundred percent machine."

I almost laughed. "I'm not sure it works like that. Machines are programmed."

"I was programmed to kill everyone on the planet at birth," he replied seriously. "Thanks to your great-grandfather, that didn't happen. We can rise above our natures, son. Look at Piccolo and Vegeta."

I didn't feel the need to point out that the only reason my father hadn't massacred the entire planet was because he had hit his head as an infant. He hadn't 'risen above his nature,' he'd merely forgotten his nature altogether. With a half-hearted wave, I left him standing in the training room. My head just wasn't in it today. I knew I was overreacting; that a prosthetic arm wasn't going to turn me into an evil android, but the idea wouldn't go away.

Stalking through the halls of Capsule Corp, I didn't even see the figure stepping from the bathroom before I bumped into them, sending them sprawling to the ground. Yamcha, of course. The guy was always here, even though he lived... I didn't know where he lived. Not here, I knew for certain.

"Fut- I mean, Gohan!" he shouted, rubbing the back of his neck. I stretched my arm out, giving him a hand up. "Sorry about that, I didn't even see you!"

"It was my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going," I replied easily. "So, what brings you here?"

"You know, just visiting Bulma," he said nervously. "Seeing how she's doing with the baby and all."

Sure he was. He was about as transparent as a window. I didn't see the point in calling him out on it, though. "I think she's down in the lab, modifying the constructors for my arm."

"Oh yeah! That's going to be soon, right?" I nodded. "Well, good luck." He started to retreat down the corridor, before a thought struck me.

"Hey Yamcha!" I called after him, making him turn. "What do you know about swords?"

I could tell my question had stunned him. "Uhhh... I used to use one, but we kind of left behind weapons when the Saiyans showed up, didn't we?"

"Who forged yours?" I continued, ignoring his question.

"Honestly, I don't know. I got mine off some traveling merchant back in my "Desert Bandit" days." After seeing my look of disapproval, he continued. "I bought it! Seriously!"

Damn. I still had no idea how I was going to procure the Kinium sword. The idea had been a spur of the moment question, but the more I had thought about it, the more it had taken root. Partly as a tribute to my fallen student, but also because such a blade would be immensely useful in battle. Bulma had laughed when I asked if she could make one. Apparently there were some things that not even she could 'construct.' A proper sword would have to be forged by someone experienced in their craft. I'd probably need to find a master sword smith who could work with the unusual metal.

Finding a proper blacksmith to forge my prospective weapon could be a good way to get my mind off the upcoming surgery and my doubts about the mechanical arm. I knew I was being irrational, that a mechanical arm wouldn't suddenly turn me into some heartless machine, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel concerned.

I made my decision... I couldn't just bum around here for a month while I waited on Bulma. Training could only distract me so much. Besides, starting training before the surgery was pointless. My biggest priorities in the next two years were relearning how to fight with two arms, adjusting to the prosthetic, as well as learning how to effectively use the kinium sword in battle. None of those things could be done now, except for finding someone to forge the weapon. Yamcha may have as useful as a dead slug, surprise, surprise, but I wasn't out of leads yet. No, there was a certain perverted old man who may know a sword smith.

I didn't expect Bulma to react so strongly to my impending departure.

"You're leaving?" she asked, her bright blue eyes looking up at me. Was that... disappointment in her eyes?

"I want to find someone to forge the sword," I say, in way of explanation. "It's... important to me. Tru-... My former student..." I trailed off, unable to finish my thought. She may have been a completely different woman than the Bulma I knew from the future, but it was still... awkward... talking about the future at all with her, much less her unborn son.

She nodded. "I get that, but what's the harm in waiting a few weeks till I finish your new arm?"

I shrugged, sipping my coffee. "I guess it'll also help me get my mind off of... everything. I'm not used to so much down time." It was true. Back in my world, there was always _something_ to do. Gathering supplies, helping refugees, fighting for my life... at least I can say that the future wasn't _boring_.

"Down time? You hardly do anything besides train. You remind me of Vegeta." Apparently this was supposed to be a joke, because she started giggling wildly. "I know! Let's go hit the town, just you and me! It'll be fun!"

She seemed so excited at the prospect, bouncing up and down and clasping her hands together, I just couldn't say no. After a long moment of internal debate, I gave her a small nod. Sure, it sounded like a day of living hell; I'd never been good with crowds. On the other hand, she was sacrificing a lot of her time to help me, and had sacrificed even more than that in the future. I owed her a nice day out on the town.

"Really?" She looked surprised. Did she honestly think I'd deny her anything, after eating her food, taking up her valuable time, and sleeping in one of her spare rooms? Then again, she was used to Vegeta... That seemed _exactly_ the type of thing Vegeta would do. I simply nodded and offered a small smile. Her enthusiasm was a little contagious.

The bright smile she beamed my way made whatever horrible things she had planned completely and utterly worth it. "Well... get dressed! I know! We'll go to Funland!"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had nothing but bad memories about that particular amusement park. The last time I'd gone there with a pretty, blue eyed girl... things hadn't ended so well. I just watched her jovially bounce away, humming a small tune to herself before making my way upstairs to hit the shower.

* * *

" _Here it is, home sweet home," Videl said as she led our little group inside. Hercule was careful not to bump my head against the door frame. From my vantage point in the big man's arms, I could see a cramped, slightly damaged basement, lit by a small window on the far side. A pair of beds were shoved up against one wall, a small dining room table sat next to an impromptu kitchen, though it would be difficult to call the area a kitchen. All it had was a portable gas stove, a microwave and stacks of canned foods. A lumpy couch and love seat filled the rest of the room, its fabric frayed and slightly stained._

 _Hercule heaved me onto the couch, while Videl started lighting candles. She pulled the curtains on the small window as she passed, probably so that their dim candlelight wouldn't bring any untoward attention of the mechanical kind. It was unlikely that they'd be back so soon, but one could never tell with the androids. They didn't think like normal people did._

 _Videl started rummaging through a large chest, pulling out all kinds of bottles and bandages. I would later learn that the basement was beneath an old pharmacy. "Dad, does he have any burns?"_

 _The large, bearded man gave me a quick once over before turning back to his daughter._ " _Uhhh... I don't see any."_

 _Videl bustled over, her arms overflowing with medical supplies. "Alright, Gohan, first thing we're going to have to do is set your broken leg. This is going to hurt," she said, her blue eyes gazing at me apologetically. She placed her hands on my broken femur, and I found it impossible to break away from her gaze. "We'll do it in three... two... one..."_

 _She was right. It hurt. A lot._


End file.
